


hells water is deep

by arkhamknights



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Basically troffy are insane but its hot, Blood, Cannibalism, Gore, M/M, murder boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkhamknights/pseuds/arkhamknights
Summary: He rubbed away the red that covered his own body, the red that painted their surroundings and the red that dotted their past.//I've been watching a lot of Hannibal and... this happened.





	hells water is deep

“That,” Trott sighed contently, the noise fluttering around the famish, modern and chillingly empty apartment he sat in, “Was an exquisite meal, Alex. However, we must be off. This isn't my taste, it's too… clean,” The brunet smirked darkly, running his fingers over the ashen wood of the long, rectangular dining table. Golden eyes flickered up, across the polished wood, silky grey blue orbs staring back at him. 

“Let’s say we grab some drinks from the liquor store on the way? Might as well make a night out of this,” Smith replied lowly, his voice smooth and deep. Trott shivered, but another smile reached his lips. He licked away the blood staining the corners of his mouth, and pushed his chair back, standing. The other man copied his actions and moved away from the table, every step he took towards the exit of the apartment a loud echo. 

The brunet man followed him.

-

“Is there a problem here?” Smith asked quietly as he stepped into the alley he’d watched his co-worker and close friend step into to light a cigarette. He’d heard the mutterings, seen the three men staring at the brunet as he glared back with that icy stare that drove everyone crazy in different ways. He noticed the way one of them nudged another warningly when the auburn haired man stepped into the yellow lit alley.

Trott smiled a look of malcontented evil, an evil so deep and exact that only Smith could pick up on it. All the three men saw was an expression of dissatisfaction and annoyance. It nearly scared the auburn haired man, how someone could show so many things to one person but less to another. It almost scared him how much Trott could hide. 

But, he knew everything. 

The nameless man at the front stepped forwards first, and Smith didn't give him a second to move properly before he landed a punch, hearing a satisfying crack, watching the blood spill from the man’s nose and over his lips, spitting it onto the floor and growling. The second joined in. The third fled. 

The original man went for Trott, noticing Smith tangled in a slightly more challenging fight with his acquaintance, stumbling and bumbling until he managed to grab the brunette's wrists, spitting slightly as he hissed. The louder crunch, the groans and the moans of pain were both terrifying and hopeful to the original nameless man. Until he felt a hand around his throat, and a sharp point pressed directly against his artery. 

Shallow, flickering breaths sent shivers down his spine as the assumingly auburn haired man spoke into his ear. “It’s not a good idea to attack a killer, or his perfectly and entirely insane boyfriend,” the blade moved across his skin, only enough to leave a pristine white scratch, and he let out a scream that was muffled by the shorters man's hand as it pressed into his shoulder, just a little.  
The man writhed against the two killers who laughed quietly, the taller one pressing his bared teeth against the fresh, shallow injury, and used the knife to cut away a little more of the flesh, enough for him to dig his teeth into the wound. 

The man howled against Trotts hand, clamped tightly over his mouth, and clenched his eyes shut, tears trickling down his cheeks. He hadn't even realised the short, brunettes overwhelming strength, fingers clasped around both of his wrists. He tasted the metallic hint of blood, before it overcame his mouth, a bitter and horrible taste he couldn't escape from. Much like them. 

The world span, and he slumped over between the two men. 

Smith smiled daintily, and laid the unconscious man down on the floor. “We don’t have long with this one. We best hurry,” Trott hummed, smiling, and picked up the other man, who was limp and cooling off already. Smith hauled the other one over his shoulder, and they both hurried through the darkness of the parking lot.

-

“Now this,” Trott commented darkly, walking slowly to stop beside Smith, gently taking his hand, noting the stickiness of it, “Was a fantastic night. Thank you, Alex,” The auburn haired man smiled, looking out across the city from their apartment lounge windows that covered the wall almost entirely, a great landscape of a city full of madness. 

“Only the best, for the best, Chris,” He replied, humming as he turned to look down at the brunet, who looked awfully magnificent in the low light. A dark splattering of blood across sharp cheekbones. Not his own, of course, Smith would never allow that to happen, not by someone else's hand. He leant down, letting out a serene breath, and pressed his lips to the corner of the brunet's mouth, who let a smile twitch onto his face. 

Trott exhaled quietly, and turned so Smith's lips pressed against his cheek. The auburn haired man grinned, licking a long line of the sticky, red blood from his friend's cheek, enjoying the bitter and sweet, metallic taste sting his tongue. 

“And only the best meals,”

Trott grinned, moving his head once again to rest against Smith's clavicle, enjoying the warm embrace. Sometimes… sometimes he doubted what they did together, wandered what would happen if they got caught. They’d inevitably be separated, if not for a long time then forever. 

Forever, until they died. He was sure they’d meet again in hell.

 

He couldn't do that though, and that's why he doubted it. He couldn’t be separated from Smith, he’d go insane.   
Trott didn't believe he was insane. 

Swallowing down the dull thoughts, the brunet stumbled backwards, taking his boyfriends bloodied hand in his own. They ended up in the bathroom, and smith knew what was going on instantly. 

Smiling sadly, only half of his heart in it, he ran a flannel under the hot water flowing from the tap, and brought it up to drag it across the brunet's skin, who hissed and flinched at first as if it burned. He rubbed away the red that covered his own body, the red that painted their surroundings and the red that dotted their past. 

He smiled. “I’m here. I’m here forever,”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been rewatching Hannibal and it rebirthed by love for violent writing, even if I cant even watch the graphic scenes in Hannibal because it makes me flinch. 
> 
> But this is now my violent series since Paracetamol is too fluffy and Uni-angsty. Expect more when I'm in the mood to write like this, and more of P when I'm in thw mood to write that ;) 
> 
> Kudos is highly appreciated but I'll love you forever if you comment! x


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